


In The Trade of Bartered Lives

by MadameThedas



Series: Naoise Halderdotten [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Gen, Kinloch Hold, cullens one sided crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-02-04 08:39:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18600976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameThedas/pseuds/MadameThedas
Summary: When the life of his apprentice is threatened, Irving fights with every scrap of power to his name to save her.





	In The Trade of Bartered Lives

“No, absolutely not.”

Irving stared at the Chantry seal embossed on the documents in front of him with a frown. The sun’s garish gilding glinted in the flickering candlelight and its brightness seemed to mock him. How many documents wielding the same seal had he signed now? Hundreds? Thousands? The number weighed on him, the memories of each mage whose autonomy he’d signed away still fresh in his mind. His quill hovered over the documents and as his hand shook, fat droplets of ink blotched the page.

“There is nothing we can do Irving, the girl is unstable, you know that,” said Greagoir, casting a shadow over the documents as he loomed over Irving.

“You ask too much. I have already signed the papers for Jowan and now you demand I sign away my apprentice too?” Scoffed Irving.

“This is not a game Irving, this is for the good of the circle! It’s not some competition to see who can gain the upper hand.” He made a dismissive gesture with his hand, as if he was swatting away a fly.

Now that was where Greagoir was wrong. Everything was a game when it came to the inner-workings of circle politics; a competition to get more than was given. When you’d grown up fighting for every scrap of authority, you learn how to play the system. And Irving was a master at playing the system. He held Greagoir’s gaze and stared up at him defiantly, his lips pursed together in a frown.

Greagoir looked away and sighed. “She’s dangerous Irving, not only to herself but to others. She was possessed before, what is to say she can withstand possession a second time.”

“The Harrowing will say, that is its purpose, is it not? It will prove that she’s no danger – it is the only thing that can prove her competence as a mage. Amell would be an asset to this circle.” Irving abandoned his quill and rose from his desk to face Greagoir.

“And you would have me risk my templars, my men, on the off chance that she might be able to resist the lure of a demon, Do my mens’ lives mean so little to you that you would risk them so easily? Demanded Greagoir, glaring at Irving as his lip curled in disgust.

“How many of your men have faced an abomination?” Asked Irving, “how many of your fresh-faced recruits are prepared to deal with such a thing.” Greagoir gawked at him, as if he wanted to rebuke his claim, but simply closed his mouth and crossed his arms.

“I’ve seen your recruits, Greagoir. Do you really think they could contain an abomination when it has the face of an acquaintance, a friend… or even a lover.” Greagoir’s eyes shot up and met Irving’s with a piercing glare.

“What are you implying Irving? Are you accusing one of my templars of having inappropriate relations with a mage?” snapped Greagoir.

Irving smiled to himself, he had taken the bait.

“Surely you have noticed the flame your templar Cullen holds for Amell, I must say he is quite infatuated with her,” chuckled Irving. “The innocence of youth is charming but it has no place in the circle. If she became an abomination, would he have the strength to kill her?” inquired Irving.

“That is precisely the sort of question that need not be answered if she were made tranquil,” said Greagoir, sounding exasperated.

“And what will happen when the next Amell comes along? Maybe even one that will return his affections. Would he stay devoted to the templars or would he let his feelings get in the way of his duty? There will always be girls like Amell and if your templar does not learn to keep his distance now, his naivety could cause him to hesitate in the face of such a horror. It is better he learns his lesson now than have it come later with the price of someone’s blood on his hands.”

Greagoir went silent, his expression unreadable as he stared unfocused at the wall behind Irving. This is what he had planned from the start, when he first saw Cullen’s flustered expression in the presence of Amell. Cullen may have thought he was being discreet, but Irving was an old man and had lived to see many such looks exchanged between templars and mages. The fate of all Fereldan’s mages rested on Irving’s shoulders and time had proved that such a look could be leverage enough to gain the upper hand in the constant struggle for power.

“What do you propose we do?” said Greagoir, his voice low.

“Amell goes through with her harrowing and Cullen is assigned to strike the killing blow. If she fails, Cullen will learn a valuable lesson and grow to be a formidable addition to the templars, and If she succeeds, the circle gains the knowledge of a worldly mage.”

“I do not like the reverence you place on her past as an apostate, Irving, surely any knowledge derived from it goes against Chantry teachings. And as for Cullen, what is to stop him from faltering if this girl means so much to him? Is it worth losing such a promising recruit if she overpowers him?” Greagoir paced the confines of Irving’s office, his face was screwed up in concern as he considered his options.

“If you make Amell tranquil, then he will surely be lost,” reasoned Irving. “He will blame your order for the injustice of it. But if Amell becomes an abomination, he’ll stand by the order and believe them necessary to prevent such an atrocity. The Harrowing is a controlled environment and Cullen will be surrounded by templars, there is little chance of him perishing regardless if he falters.” Irving saw Greagoir’s expression harden and knew he had made his decision.

“Very well,” Greagoir relented. “Amell will go through the Harrowing, may the results be on your head Irving. I’ll see to the preparations.” He strode out of Irving’s office and shut the door behind him.

“It always is on my head,” muttered Irving as he watched his retreating form. Irving gathered the documents on his desk and took one last look at the golden sun. As long as he lived, it would never be branded on Amell’s forehead. He held the documents to the candle and watched as the flames engulfed it. The sight of the burning papers did nothing to ease the weight on Irving’s shoulders; there would always be another form to sign, another mage too volatile to undergo the Harrowing. But he would not allow them to be taken in vain. Every time the templars took, Irving would make sure they would lose something too and if Amell failed, this time Cullen would be the one to pay the price.


End file.
